busy earnin'

Rafael: write me a prescription doc

Rafael: i lied before i can feel my face too much rn

Noah: my official diagnosis is too sober

Rafael: alright reischer i didn't ask to hear your business credo

Rafael: what have you got?

Noah: 8 kilo of black tar heroin, I smuggled it in with a freshman mule. like what do you think I have?

Rafael: i can't feel my face when i'm with u

Rafael: no but rly what have u got on u??

Rafael: i'm gonna kms if i have to stay sober for this shit

Noah: I've got some stuff to spare, but I'm not a walking warehouse

Noah: this is why I encourage pre-orders

The night so far had been rich with opulence and musical laughter but the rush she’d craved had come and gone in little doses, teasing her to lose herself in the plastic night sky. The night was still young when she saw Easton’s Prince of Hell, devilishly handsome as he approached her at the corner of the room where the only light was the dull glow of the convincingly real stars. A small smirk found its way on her cherry painted lips, one typically reserved for him as she leaned off the railing, and moved closer to him. “And I’m happy to negotiate, as long as you don’t fuck up and put my soul to waste.” Her feet felt light on the towering heels and despite her dress being quite revealing on its own, the fabric felt claustrophobic against her buzzing skin. “You look nice”.

“I’m kinda disappointed, the phone number didn’t have one damn six in it.” She frowned at the way Noah’s amusement drained from his face. Jack’s reputation was a dangerous one, no doubt. “He’s had his fill of blood and sand tonight. He looks out for me.” She felt like the primary school teacher consoling a kid who’d been pushed on the playground, defending her brother. “Raf talks a lot, he was kinda asking for a split lip.” Vinny nodded in the direction of the sullen subject of conversation, “He kinda even wears that black eye like a fuckin’ purple heart of bravery.”

Eleanor shivered in the dress her brother had sent over from one of his trips abroad. It had been a stroke of luck when Charlotte had settled on red dresses, as Eleanor wasn’t sure she’d have the heart to wear anything else. For all her proclaimed loyalty to Billings and the girls that resided there, the only real pull she felt towards anyone was to her brother William. A voice in the back of her head whispered this was the sort of world she’d be a part of for the rest of her life and something inside her screamed for a reprieve. Spotting Noah off to the side, the girl made it a point to drift in that direction, figuring he might have some remedy for the noise in her chest. “If I remember correctly it was the ruling class there who also were drenched in red. But then who ever gave a shit about the French, tradition’s never really been their style.” There was a bite of sarcasm and bitter humour she hoped might slip by unnoticed by the boy who posed the question 

“Which one?” Valentine countered, cocking an eyebrow at the boy. “There were many. The French are a very unhappy people.” Her own dress, which she thought might blend into the background slightly – with its core color being black – actually worked in the opposite direction. She stood out amongst her supposed peers. Though the makeup her grandmother had given her (“You’ll regret those tattoos one day.”) and the temporary brown hair dye did a decent job at disguising her. Unless they were a fellow Pemberly, Valentine was almost certain that she wouldn’t be recognized. “Bad joke aside, your point stands. I hope no one here thought they were being creative or original by wearing red tonight.”

She glanced over Noah, taking another sip of the jungle juice before replying. “You’re being impersonated, did you know? Lucifer sent me a text, and it wasn’t you.” She liked Noah enough, he was Ketlar to his core, combination businessman and playboy. “Aaron’s taken up nature photography lately. His hands were a little shaky but he caught something in the wild.”

It was over the top in a way that made her feel out of place, where everyone held themselves a little more stiffly. The place was beautiful, decked out in stars in a way that made everything shimmer, golds and blacks and far too much damn red. It was too expensive for her taste, and she took it all in, the punch in a crystal glass more alcohol than fruit juice and her heels making her more Bambi than girl. “If I keel over right here,” she muttered, to the person who’d found themselves by her side, “Just let my body fucking rot.”

Easton Legacy Ball // 2015

“Know first who you are, and then adorn yourself accordingly.”  – Epictetus

Kara: What can I say? Hellfire speaks to me.

Kara: That sounds tragically boring. I'll be in the corner with a drink and pill in hand having moe fun than you seem you will.

Kara: Then I think I'll sell my soul for a dance with the devil..look for me?

Kara: Who's the unlucky arm candy?

Noah: that's a binding contract, you know. I'll be coming to collect.

Kara: So, is Lucifer making an appearance tonight?

Noah: the Devil would never miss such a good press opportunity.